Regret
by BoxingTheStars
Summary: After the final battle, Ron deals with the death of his brother and the future ahead. Ron/Hermione. Rated T for death and slightly mature themes.


He was sitting under a tree at the very edge of the lake, staring blankly out at its glassy waters. In the distance the giant squid was waving its tentacles in the air, as if it too had heard the news and wanted to express its enthusiasm. It wasn't the only one, Ron had just spotted several merpeople surfacing and surveying the scarred grounds, apparently unable to believe that the battle that had raged above in the night was finally over. Back at the castle – and, no doubt, all around Europe – people rejoiced over the fact that the Dark Lord had gone at last.

Ron Weasley could not deny that this was something to be celebrated; he could not hold it against them that they were happy. He could try, but the fact remained that many families had been torn apart like his had. Some had been crushed altogether, stamped out because they dared to defy the new regime or, even worse, because their blood was not pure. Indeed, he had spent more time worrying about Hermione than ever before these past months, and he could only be thankful that she, along with most of his family, was alive and well.

But it was so bittersweet.

Voldemort was gone for good this time, Ron himself had helped see to that, but no amount of magic could bring his brother back from the dead. Even Ron, stubborn and naïve as he could be sometimes, had to accept that. While he had never been as close to Fred as George had, it still seemed as though there was a dark cloud on the bright horizon that should have lay ahead.

He needed to be alone. He had spent so much time with Harry and Hermione over the past months that seeking them out should have been second nature, but he felt that he needed to fight this battle alone.

Was he punishing himself? He felt unsure of that as he sat by the lake, waves of sadness crashing over him with nothing to stop it. He would not allow himself to join in the celebrations, to rejoice over the fall of the Dark Lord and the part he had played in it. It was as if he was wearing the locket all over again: He found himself utterly unable to think positively about the situation.

He felt almost as if he was being consumed with regret. Regret for the time he had wasted, regret for the time they had never had. Every fight he'd ever had with his brother stood out in his mind; it often felt that they were calling out to him, surrounded by flashing neon lights. He could barely stand the thought that he had spent Fred's last Christmas hiding at Shell Cottage in shame.

Just then, the finality of it all crashed over him. Last night he had been too numb and tired to think about it much. The fact that the war was over had seemed far more important then, but that was only because he was too exhausted to see past it. Blinking furiously, refusing to cry although there was no one around, he tore his gaze from the lake, eyes now focusing on a distant figure that was making its way across the grounds. He desperately wished the person – whether it was male or female he could not tell yet – would turn the other way, perhaps go back to the castle and rejoin the fun after getting a bit of fresh air.

The figure kept on a straight path ahead, though, and he hurriedly wiped his eyes, though no tears were actually in them. As the figure drew nearer a mane of bushy brown hair became visible in the afternoon sunlight, and Ron had a sneaking suspicion about who it was.

This suspicion was confirmed when the girl – for even if it turned out to be someone else, it was definitely a girl – paused briefly and then lengthened her stride so that she was now practically running towards the tree under which he sat; she had almost definitely seen him. His stomach dropped slightly.

It wasn't that he didn't want to see Hermione. If he really hadn't wanted to see her, he could have gotten up long ago and hidden somewhere else. He was actually quite glad that it was her and not someone else, it seemed like a miracle that no one had found him before she had. He hadn't bothered to conceal himself particularly well, and his hair was a bit of a give away.

He realized as she got closer that he had left almost in the hope that she would seek him out. It seemed like a crude sort of test that he hadn't realized he'd been planning, and his face felt considerably warmer than it should have as she sat down next to him. -

"We've been looking for you," She said softly, staring out into the distance rather than looking at his face. He had the impression that she had just come from one of the celebrations; her face was flushed and she was holding two bottles in her hands, which she let rest in her lap as she sat down.

"Yeah, well, maybe I didn't want to be found," He replied grumpily, still refusing to make eye contact with her. Normally a comment such as this might have sparked an argument between the two of them, but today Hermione didn't reply; instead choosing to incline her head slightly. He assumed that this was supposed to mean something, but he didn't exactly know _what. _

There were a million things he should have asked her – a million things he was dying to ask her – in the silence that followed. In cutting himself off from the celebrations he had also cut himself off from any information that might have been circulating back up at the castle, and he felt like he was missing out on something.

"That's what Ginny said," She said at last, apparently deciding that he wasn't going to say anything more. Knowing that he was being unreasonable but at the same time not caring, Ron opened his mouth to retort, but Hermione cut him off, "But I thought you might like some company."

"Did you?" He asked, looking down at his hands, which were wound tightly together.

"Yes. I did," She said, a bit stiffly. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her sit up a little straighter, and he almost smiled in spite of himself, "And I brought you a drink," She added in the same formal tone.

"Not thirsty," He mumbled.

"Ron, you have to have something. When was the last time you – we – ate? You weren't at breakfast."

"The Great Hall isn't exactly where I want to be right now, Hermione," He told her solemnly, remembering the night before. These things were true – he had no appetite at all, and he didn't plan on going to the Hall any time soon.

"But you must be starving!" She pressed, sounding surprised at his immediate rejection of food. And why shouldn't she be? She didn't understand; her family was safe in Australia.

"I've gone longer without a decent meal," He joked weakly.

She almost looked like she wanted to laugh, but a second later her smile was sad. She took his hand. He let her.

"I'm sorry, Ron."

He swallowed a lump in his throat that had not been there before, "'S not your fault."

"I'm still sorry."

Finally, he managed to look her in the eye. She was gazing at him intently, but it was purely sympathetic – there was nothing accusing or expectant in her stare.

"And I'm not saying it's going to get better, because I've never lost anyone in my family like this," She continued nervously, "But I... I don't think Fred would want you to be sad. I think he'd want you to be upstairs handing Canary Creams out, like George."

"George is handing Canary Creams out?" Ron asked.

"Yes," She paused, "I think he's dealing with it – well – differently."

For the first time, he cracked a genuine smile. Hermione, who had been looking worried every since the words left her mouth, smiled along with him. He squeezed her hand, beginning to realize at last that the family he had left – including his friends – wouldn't have let him punish himself even if he had been at fault. And maybe Hermione had not been close to Fred, but had she not seen the same things he had? Had she not fought for her life, watched friends and classmates die last night?

Feared for him, even, the way he had feared for her?

"I understand if you want to be alone – " She began.

"No," He interrupted, pulling her up from the ground with him, "I think I'll go back with you."

There was a silence as they began to move, Hermione looking both puzzled and pleased with his reaction.

They walked together towards a brighter horizon.


End file.
